


The Minat

by Quibblet



Category: Dragon Ball, Dragon Ball Z
Genre: Alien Culture, Alien rescue, Alien/Human Relationships, Alter ego in dreams, Alternate Timelines, Arthurian Reference, Drama, F/M, Family, Family Secrets, Flashbacks, Folklore, Hidden colony, Implied inbreeding history (human), Post-Cell Games Saga, Romance, Surreal, past rebellion, past sagas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-21
Updated: 2020-06-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:07:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24836626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quibblet/pseuds/Quibblet
Summary: Short highlights of Yamcha's life after the Cell Saga. A group of surviving Saiyans land on Earth, where one of them crosses paths with his. Alternate universe.
Relationships: Android 18/Krillin (Dragon Ball), Bra Briefs/Son Goten, Brolly/Cheelai (Dragon Ball), Bulma Briefs/Vegeta, Chi-Chi/Son Goku (Dragon Ball), Launch/Tenshinhan (Dragon Ball), Trunks Briefs/Mai, Videl Satan/Son Gohan, Yamcha (Dragon Ball)/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 8





	1. Chapter 1

  


  


Disclaimer: I do not own any characters of Dragonball Z or related series, except original characters

  


  


  


  


**Age 768, January – Seven months after Cell’s defeat**

  


  


Puar burst through the door of the high-rise condominium that he shared with his long-time buddy, Yamcha. The kitty creature was giddy with anticipation as he dropped the rented movies on the coffee table.

“Oh Yamchaaaa! Time for movie binge night!”

The human appeared from the hallway, drying his hair off after a warm, placid shower. He came over to the table, his dark eyes widening at the selection.

“Alright! Die Hardest, Crazy Cheerleader Killer 3, Weekend at Pilaf’s, and—“

He stopped dead in his tracks when he beheld one of them. Puar noticed it and nervously peaked over. 

_Oh no, did I accidentally pick out another porn title?_

Fortunately, the video case read, “Gawain’s Quest.” An Arthurian fantasy…

“Puar, what did l tell you about—“

But the kitty wanted so badly to see the movie. “But Yamcha, I thought maybe a fantasy film would be exciting! I’m so tired of drama and action all the time!”

Yamcha dropped the video case, turning away.

“Oh c’mon, Yamcha! It’s not like it’s Le Morte D’Arthur---“ Puar quickly covered his mouth.

But before his human friend could react, the phone suddenly rang in the kitchen. Yamcha briskly walked away to answer it. 

It was Krillin. Apparently, a new threat had made itself known on the outskirts of West City. 

"It’s on the news," his bald friend had stated.

After turning on the television, Yamcha realized why. One of the local news stations was reporting on the arrival of several, unfamiliar space craft.

An hour later....

 _So, Frieza hadn't destroyed them all,_ Yamcha thought as he was staring at the newcomers in surprise. 

Indeed, their latest guests to Earth were none other than…Saiyans. At first, an old, familiar feeling of pending doom had stirred within Yamcha’s heart; he could sense Piccolo, Gohan, Tien and Krillin were feeling a similar emotion.

Vegeta was also highly on guard, though whether he was glad to see some of his brethren alive was hard to tell. The prince was the poster boy for masking such emotions through a stoic facade.

But no, it turns out they didn't want to come take over or blow up the Earth. There were three men and two women, all wearing blue, shiny uniforms that weren't reminiscent of Frieza's army attire at all.

They claimed to be survivors of one of two Saiyan colonies scattered several millions of miles from where Planet Vegeta had been situated. They came from a colony called Squash; the other one was called Potao.

Vegete's lips had curled in a disgusted snarl. "Traitors!"

"We have no bad blood with you, prince," one of the Saiyan men assured. "We seek to repair our ships and be on our way."

It was then that Yamcha and the other Z Fighters learned that the Squash and Potao colonies had rebelled against the Vegeta Monarchy, choosing to declare independence. Of course, this had been a thorn in the King's side, except he was busy keeping up the delicate alliance with Frieza.

In the end, the colonies had escaped the lizard tyrant's wrath when a mysterious barrier appeared, providing a protective shield from any outside invaders. 

A group of aliens called the Cetacs found them, teaching them their ways and providing resources for them. The Cetacs had explained that the barrier appeared every 200 years, and that during this time, extreme isolation was inevitable among the galactic civilizations there.

Just then, Yamcha caught one of the Saiyan females eyeing him....no, it was more like she was boring a hole into him, full of some unspoken fascination. What was her problem?

It was Gohan and Krillin who stepped forward and offered the newcomers hospitality until they could obtain the necessary components for their ships (assuming Earth had compatible resources). Afterwards, they could be on their way in continuing their excursion through the galaxy.

Five days later....

The Saiyan woman had been attacked. By sheer coincidence, Yamcha had found her lying out in the countryside, a burning vehicle nearby and three dead human men. He tried talking to her, but she was slipping in and out of consciousness.

Yamcha took her to the hospital that night. For some reason, he felt the need to comfort her while straining to carry the woman in his arms. She was heavier than she looked.

"Shhh, it's going to be okay," he soothed. "Don't worry, I'm here. We'll get you help, it's going to be okay...."

He later found out three criminals on the loose had come upon her while she was training, and tried to rape her. Being undeniably more powerful than an average human, the Saiyan woman singlehandedly fought them off.

One of the attackers had a nasty hole blown through his torso, while another's neck was snapped. The third one burned to a crisp when he tried escaping to the car, and was greeted with a ki blast that sent it up in smoldering flames. 

But before they all died, one of the men had managed to shoot her several times with poison darts. 

"It's Bitron," the doctor had explained to Yamcha. "Very lethal. It was banned years ago as a biological warfare chemical. It has a one hundred percent fatality rate. No one has ever survived its devastating effects."

He then frowned. "But this woman, she is still fighting. It's amazing."

"Uh-heh, well, she's not exactly....uh, average human?" Yamcha replied.

The doctor nodded, thoughtful. "Yes. Even her blood type is different...rare. But I’ve seen it before, during my studies with a colleague of mine. If I remember correctly, a couple of other patients had a similar blood type...”

 _Could he mean Goku and Gohan?_ Yamcha thought. _Or even Vegeta, if he had his blood drawn as well..._

“My god, it scares me to realize people are running around with that poison,” the doctor commented, troubled. "The first thing it does is attack the heart." After a moment, his blue eyes lit up. "But we recently had a breakthrough in counteracting the effects of Bitron."

"Really?"

The doctor nodded, thumbing his chin. "I remember one of my colleagues at Wukong University saying a capsule full of this unknown substance had been brought to his laboratory. A purple liquid..."

It was then that Yamcha would find out from Bulma a secret: she had brought the left-over medicine that Future Trunks had given to them, and provided it to research in finding a cure for other diseases. But wasn't that risking the timeline?

Yamcha stayed for several more hours at the hospital, wondering why he was even doing it. He felt bad for the Saiyan, even if she was a potential enemy to his people. Nearly a week had passed when he finally learned she had been cured.

The medicine from the Future timeline, or whatever altered form it was now in from the scientists' tampering, had eliminated the effects of the Bitron.

Four days later....

She had found him, beyond the arid terrains and green-covered karsts, at his desert home. Even though Yamcha officially lived in West City, he had still kept the old hideout as a way to retreat from the urban bustle. Puar was at his home village to visit family, and was staying there for about a week.

As expected, Yamcha was startled by her appearance. After all, it wasn't everyday he encountered an alien warrior woman who could probably wipe the floor with him using her beastly strength.

She was dressed in her shimmering blue uniform, whose colors reminded him of a dolphin. She had caught him in an embarrassing moment when he was feeling sorry for himself; he was dramatically vowing to protect Earth and wouldn't give up because of his puny strength, and started kissing the ground repeatedly.

"I'm not interrupting some intimate ritual with your planet, am I?" she inquired casually.

Yamcha had froze, mortified. He ran back into the hideout. It was a few minutes before she barged into his man cave, claiming she was hungry.

After recovering from brief shock, he gave her some sliced ham. She gouged it all down, then proceeded to ask for more food. Soon, all his leftovers and snack supplies were rapidly diminishing. If what Yamcha was thinking was true about Saiyan appetites....

 _Oh man, she's going to eat me out of the house!_ he thought. 

She had walked up to him, and the former bandit naturally tensed up.

"Why are you here?" he finally blurted out.

Behind her steely gaze, there was an unexpected sincerity in her eyes. Suddenly, she reached out and put a hand on his shoulder. Yamcha resisted the urge to shrink away from it.

"I wanted to thank you," she replied. "For saving my life."

That was it? No threatening him? No wanting to beat him up? 

Yamcha fidgeted for words. "Uhhh, your...welcome?" 

She smiled. "What's your name?"

After introducing himself, he found out her name: Okra. It was in typical Saiyan tradition that it sounded like a vegetable. 

He hadn't expected her to treat him like an actual person. He would later learn her people's ways were radically different from the familiar, brutal ones he had come to know from Vegeta and Nappa. 

They were somewhat like the progressives of their race, rejecting most of the conservative and autocratic ways of the Vegeta Monarchy. 

  


* * * 

Okra had been observing the human as he practiced one of his combat moves. A few leg kicks here, a flurry of haymakers there, with several retreating back flips on the ground. So this man was a fighter.

She remembered telling her uncle, Cress, and his friends that she would stay on Earth for awhile. At first, they had looked at her crazy and tried to convince her to return to Squash colony. But none of their persuasion did any good, as she was very determined in sticking by her decision.

Okra promised that she would occasionally communicate with them. When she felt the time was ready, she would return. She didn’t tell them the real reason for wanting to stay....they probably would have laughed in her face. 

Now as she watched Yamcha, an intuitive, familiar feeling crept into her very core. She’d seen him before...a long time ago.

  


  


**(Flashback)  
**

****

****

**Age 739**

An older Saiyan woman peered through the door of her little daughter's room, as a warm ray of sunlight peeked through the window, signifying dawn. The girl was soundly asleep. It was almost a month now since she’s been like this.

Later on...

"Okra, come on, finish up your breakfast," Shallot encouraged. But the nine year old girl was lost in thought, idly twirling her food.

"Mama, he came again," Okra said. "He saved me from the demon again..."

Shallot smiled. "I know. You did not wake in the night, screaming in terror. It's been nearly three years now since you've had these nightmares."

Okra nodded, her own smile full of vibrance. She could never clearly see the face of the being in her dreams, but he was always a comforting presence. He was ethereal in appearance, with dark unruly hair and a blue-white mist that surrounded his humanoid body.

Her mother had told her an old tale about the Minats - they were benevolent beings that came to help a person in their dreams. This could be from assuaging their fears from a nightmare, to sending a sign that could affect their fate in the conscious world.

It didn’t matter who a Minat chose to appear to, be it a child, a warrior, a farmer...from commoner to royalty.

Most Minats were immortal and were said to have been created by one of the gods, Bhushi, as a gift to the Saiyan race. But some Minats were actually mortal - usually born a Saiyan or some other creature. 

When these kinds of ‘Minats’ fell asleep, they could leave their body and flee into another person’s dreams. Only the truly evil ones could never be a Minat. Of course, this was just an old superstition. But a long time ago, an older generation on Planet Sadala believed in it. 

There was a once popular tale, _Yamu_ , about a Saiyan chieftan befriending one in his dreams; the Minat aided him and a small group of villagers in search of a cure from a terrible plague that was spreading across the country.

But as time went by, it became something along the lines of anecdotal hogwash to amuse one’s company; a new cultural wave had encompassed the tribes - one that demanded pure practicality, and no trifling beliefs that couldn’t be proven.

One that brought out more of a bloodlust already ingrained in their evolution. One that glorified war and the oppression of the weak and helpless. One that suppressed such emotions as empathy, fear, love, and compassion. One that showed the universe that they were truly a terrifying enemy not to be messed with...ever.

By the time of the Vegeta Monarchy, _Yamu_ had been completely forgotten, buried in the obscure pile of other silly, sentimental folklore. 

Shallot sighed as she watched Okra eagerly eat the rest of her meal. Atleast she remembered the story. Ever since Planet Vegeta blew up and their colony was saved by the Cetac aliens, some of the ancient ways were slowly coming back.

And then there was the Azimun Barrier that appeared every 200 years. This immense force field shielded a part of the universe, lasting for about 30 years - it had protected them; preventing Frieza’s army from ever finding them. 

She missed her relatives, some who had stayed behind to serve King Vegeta. She could only imagine the horror they felt as they were burned alive by the massive meteor. Shallot also missed her mate as well, whose life was cut short from a rare illness when their daughter was four years old.

He had actually felt affection for them – even though he kept it a secret from his other crew members. Otherwise, he would be a pariah in their society; probably discharged from the Saiyan Army and imprisoned for such weak, perverted behavior. 

Their rigid culture didn’t value looking out for their children or mates. But a long, long time ago, that was not the case...

  


**(Present Day)**

  


  


Okra snapped out of her recollection of the past, and continued observing Yamcha for a few more minutes. He had formed a ki ball and was controlling its maneuvering abilities. She sensed there wasn’t much power to the attack, but he treated it as if it were a mini bomb. After he had blasted a few small mesas away, she called out to him.

“Hey! Are you up for a little sparring?”

Again, the shy, nervous demeanor from the human. 

“S-sparring?”

“Yes.”

“Ahhh, I don’t think so.”

“Why not?” she asked, now approaching him.

Yamcha was flustered. “Do you have any idea how strong you Saiyans are, compared to my people? It wouldn’t do any good.”

Okra was quite aware, given those three criminals she had successfully fought off and killed. She was not much of a fighter, but her uncle had insisted on teaching her a form of martial arts. He still had the innate desire to fight in his blood, despite rebelling against the Vegeta Monarchy. She figured she could keep those skills sharp, especially from what unknown dangers abounded in this world.

“Well, what about Vegeta? Or Gohan? I think they’re much more in your league, you know...” Yamcha insisted.

“I’m not interested in seeing how strong they are. Besides, the prince won’t have anything to do with me.” She shrugged, as if it were a known fact for years. “Saiyans from Planet Vegeta don’t take kindly to brethren who leave them and their ways.”

She then smiled assuredly, getting into a fighting stance. “Don’t worry, Yamcha. I’ll go easy on you.”

Yamcha had laughed uncomfortably, rubbing the back of his head. “Umm, let me see if I have some senzu beans first...”

And so, they practiced. It gave Okra something to do atleast, until she finally agreed to go up against Gohan and even Piccolo. Admittedly, it was difficult controlling her strength with the fragile human, as she had accidentally injured him several times. But luckily Okra had learned of the phenomenal healing abilities of the senzu beans.

Yamcha, in turn, was getting more used to her presence. Instead of continually insulting him for being a lousy fighter, her even temperament and playful encouragement egged him on. That didn't mean she didn't take 'jabs' at him once in awhile, but they were not like the malicious kind used by enemies. Okra, in turn, found speed and guerilla-like tactics were his key strengths. 

He had caught her off guard several times with his fluid movements, micro-teleporting and delivering quite a sucker punch that took the breath out of her lungs. Now he wanted to impress her by demonstrating his most ferocious attacks, the Wolf Fang Fist and Kamehameha. 

He found himself letting her stay with him at his old home. Okra was open to telling him about her life on Squash Colony, the revolt against King Vegeta long ago - even their traditions and cultural ways. She also discovered some of Earth’s culture to be fascinating as well.

Their food was so full of variety and amazing flavors. Their music was nothing like she’d ever heard. The awesome little capsules that can store anything in them, even a house!

She learned of his life as well – the tragedy of being orphaned at age 3; being adopted and raised by a crazy hermit thief of the desert. The thief eventually died and Yamcha took over his property, even inheriting an impressive-looking sword. 

He told her how he had befriended the shapeshifter, Puar, and both grew up to be like brothers. He never spoke much of his parents – in fact, the human went out of his way to avoid the subject. All he claimed was that he didn’t remember them and wasn’t interested in who they were. 

Okra figured it was a painful area for Yamcha, and decided not to press the matter any further. She also learned of the fellow Saiyan, Son Goku – how he had ultimately sacrificed his life against the monstrous Cell; how his son, Gohan, finally put an end to one of their greatest enemies. 

So, Yamcha was already use to having one of her people around. Over sharing a meal or during quiet time, he would tell her more about Earth’s famous heroes.

He had accidentally disclosed to her the secret of the dragonballs – their fantastic abilities to grant the user three wishes. There were a few limitations, of course. 

Okra, in turn, was certainly intrigued. She wondered if Yamcha wasn’t just messing with her for his own amusement…

 _Wow! Magical balls that could give you anything you wanted?_

Finally, one day, the Saiyan had revealed to him why she was here. Despite knowing him for about a month, she still expected him to ridicule her when she disclosed the somewhat frivolous reason.

“It’s you....I feel like I always known you. In my dreams...”

Yamcha stopped from biting into a mango. “What?”

“You are like a Minat. I still remember hearing you consoling me as you carried me to the hospital...”

“A Minat?”

That’s when she proceeded to tell him about the supernatural beings that helped her people during sleep. She told him of a demon chasing and attacking her, resembling one of Frieza’s race – but more larger and vicious in appearance.

But then the Minat would appear, and shield her from her mindless panic. Bring her back to her senses. Remind her to be brave and control her fear.

To her astonishment, Yamcha wasn’t all that baffled by her lofty claim. All his life, he had vague memories of being something else....otherworldly....particularly when he was a child. On several occasions, he would dream of leaving his body and seek out a crying girl in a mist.

He was something not at the conscious level....it didn’t _feel_ like him, but at the same time, it did. He would comfort the frightened soul, powerful words coming to his mind like notes on a piano.

“Somehow, I always knew,” he admitted. “But it was so long ago, I thought it was my imagination running wild. They stopped when I got older, but I never forgot them.” He chuckled a little. “It’s funny, because I always had a phobia of females. But...not with this one. I was never afraid of her in my dreams.”

Okra had to chuckle as well. This Minat, whatever form he took, had some strange quirks.

Yamcha then reached out to place his hand over hers. “Then it wasn’t unreal after all. Now it’s coming back to me...I remember you, Okra.”

She smiled, relieved. He wasn’t going to make fun of her. “The folklore is true! How do you explain this familiarity that we have with each other?” Then her onyx eyes lit up. “Do—do you remember what you called me in the dreams?”

Yamcha’s brows furrowed together for a few seconds. “Ahh, I think...it was...”

She felt her heart beat a little faster.

“Mmm...Ser—something.... _Sera....Serato?”_

Okra nodded, excited. “Yes, yes! Serato – it means ‘little one’ in Saiyo-go.”

Yamcha laughed. “Omigod, all this time I was speaking an alien language and didn’t even know it! Fate is sure weird sometimes...”

  


  


  


**Age 769, Spring**

  


  


Yamcha had been several things in his life: nefarious bandit of the desert, one-time lover of Capsule Corporation's headstrong princess, Z Fighter, baseball superstar, friend, and now a husband. But a father? 

It was a whole new feeling for him. He looked down in awe at seeing his newborn son, cradled in Okra's arms. Unlike human women, their Saiyan counterparts' pregnancies ran shorter - around 7 months.

The babies were more rambunctious, constantly kicking and bouncing around in the mother's womb, as if they couldn't wait to fight their first opponent. Bulma and Chichi had affirmed this when they were carrying Trunks, Gohan and Goten to term, respectively. Half the time, it had been hell for them. 

When Okra had gone into labor, he insisted that they go to the hospital. She had objected, reasoning that Saiyan women gave birth at home and there was no need for medical intervention.

Bean, a Saiyan mid-wife from the colony, soon arrived to make sure Okra was taken care of. Yamcha had been a bundle of nerves while Okra was squeezing out their hybrid child. Even with Puar trying to calm him down, it did no good...

But something in his heart told him he could do this - he could handle being there for his beloved and witness the miracle of a new life. Afterwards, Bean had wrapped the wailing baby in a soft blue cloth and gave him over to the exhausted Okra.

"Ah, such a handsome one," Bean beamed. "You know, Okra, he looks an awful lot like your side of the family."

Puar floated to her side. “Ahhh, he’s a cute little tyke! You guys did well!”

Okra smiled in acknowledgment, before looking down at the infant. His tail was moving around in the wrapping, trying to make its way out. "He will be strong and worthy of our people, Bean." Her tired eyes then flew to Yamcha. "And your people as well, dear husband."

The intense pride and love that glowed on her face had caught Yamcha's breath. 

_She’s so beautiful…_ He thought. _Precious…priceless._

It was true…she couldn’t be compared to any treasure or valuable commodity he had stolen during his criminal days. And now there was the tiny one nestled in her arms.

It was then Yamcha realized he finally had a family, after years of being on his own. A childhood with no real parents to guide or love him.

 _I'll be there for you both, always,_ he thought. _No matter what happens._

No matter what happens? Again, that fleeting feeling suddenly came…the baby had his genes. Apprehension filled him. What if…?

 _It’ll be okay,_ his better side comforted. 

  


  


  


**Age 772, Winter**

  


  


The past few years proved to be some of the happiest in Yamcha's life. He split his time between living on Squash Colony and Earth. He had learned that Okra and the rest of her people utilized an advanced form of traveling, developed by the Cetacs.

They had traversed across the galaxy by means of a short cut- a wormhole. Yamcha faintly recalled Dr. Briefs bringing it up during one of his hour long sessions of blathering away on scientific discoveries. On Earth, it was only a theory.

There was atleast one hidden wormhole in the Asteroid Belt that the Saiyans had arrived through. There ships were also a combination of the definitive designs and technology from the Frieza Empire, as well as the Cetacs’s own engineering feats. 

Yamcha and Okra had been married twice: once in a traditional Earth ceremony, and the other, a Saiyan one, in line with Okra’s tribal practices, the Lentis.

Krillin, Bulma and the others couldn’t have been more surprised. But after getting over their initial shock that Yamcha finally had someone – a Saiyan of all things – they were happy for him. Even Launch had shed tears of joy, gushing on about how her and Tien would also tie the knot someday.

Yamcha found out that like humans, Saiyans had their own differences in ethnic cultures and tribes. Some couldn’t be more different from the others. When he visited the colony for the first time, he hadn’t expected such diverse behaviors from a historically violent race. 

There were even those that had no desire to fight.

“In the old Vegeta Regime, people like us were looked down upon,” one middle-aged barkeeper told him. “If the King kept us alive, it was usually for labor. Otherwise, we were deemed an absolute weakness in their uber warrior culture – killed or banished to other worlds.”

“That’s why we risked rebellion,” his wife chimed in. “We couldn’t live with the oppressive ways of our planet and be persecuted. He was weeding out the undesirable traits, as was started by the first king. It ended up costing the lives of the Tuffles as well.”

Yamcha learned of the civil war between their ancient ancestors on the original homeworld, Sadala. It was a tumultuous battle of good vs. evil – unfortunately, the evil Saiyans had won.

Shortly after, they ventured out into space, where they eventually immigrated to Planet Plant and called it their new home. The more docile, nonviolent Saiyans were taken along as slaves, though some had become mates to the cruel, bloodthirsty ones. 

This extreme tribal mentality – the need to fight, the need to be the strongest and most destructive force in the universe – pervaded their traditions, their ways of life. It had clashed sharply with the more advanced, but physically weaker Tuffles – the original inhabitants of Planet Plant.

Of what Yamcha could surmise, a majority of the Saiyan colonists were the descendants of the ‘good, gentle’ ones – it seemed that way, though he also noticed half of them still enjoyed some form of fighting.

Yamcha also found extraordinary differences with their anatomy - a Saiyan body didn’t reject an organ transplant like a human one did. Their hearts had an additional chamber that boosted their oxygen circulation, and their body temperatures were higher – atleast by two to three degrees

They had a redundancy system which helped them to heal from brutal injuries that would normally kill a human. A special part of their brain stem allowed them to be fully conscious and self-aware when suffering lethal hypothermia, whereas humans reverted to an animal behavior called ‘terminal burrowing’ when freezing to death. 

He had even met the Cetacs, the mysterious, wise aliens that had rescued the Saiyans; they had saved other alien species as well. Yamcha marveled at their powerful auras and blob-like appearances – but they always radiated a soothing presence to him.

_Trusting…_

Most of the colonists he met had accepted him as Okra’s mate. There were a few of them whose partners were other alien species as well; most couldn’t tell him apart anyway from other Saiyans, given his strong resemblance to them. The only obvious giveaways was lacking a monkey tail and not knowing the local language. 

Still, there were those who were against interbreeding – fearing the Saiyan bloodline would be tainted with weak, abominable offspring. Some had given him dirty looks and called him harsh names. 

He couldn’t understand some of the insults from their native language. Maybe that's what saved him the first time around feeling the actual jabs. Okra always defended him though, not caring what they thought. 

They had several dojos established on the colony; some of them even taught a spiritual aspect to their martial arts. He was bowled over by the many alien fowl and cattle farms dotting the regions outside the largest metropolis, Legu City. 

_Oh, right...Saiyans eat a ton more than humans do, so it makes sense they would have more food supplies..._

Their crop plots were about the same size as Earth’s, so that was the one thing that puzzled him. Gradually, he had adapted to their food palate, except Saiyan cuisine was a little more…well, bland and less varied than Earth’s.

It seemed they were more meat eaters than anything else; fruits and veggies made up a tiny portion of their diet, but they were not big on it as humans were. Hence, their smaller crop/produce output.

By the end of the year, Yamcha had come to know a lot about Saiyans, with the exception of Vegeta. On the other hand, Goku only knew about them through King Kai. 

_I wonder how much King Kai told him though..._

He was aware that Goku had little interest in his race. That was understandable, given their disturbing history and malevolent actions committed across the galaxy. But it also reminded Yamcha of how evil his own people were - of what atrocities they had done on a large scale....World War II came to mind. Sure, Earth's own soiled history would never match the massive amount of blood spilled by the Saiyans under the Planet Trade Organization. But it was still the same outcome - murder, invasions, genocide, and other abhorrent acts done to innocent lives. 

But if Goku ever knew about Squash Colony, how would he feel? Would it be enough to change his mind? Would he make friends among them?

Okra had named their child Daikon, after her grandfather - whom she had nothing but fond memories of. Her mother had cooed and fawned over her grandson, despite he wasn't a full-blooded Saiyan.

Yamcha found himself not objecting to his child spending time on Squash; atleast he could learn and appreciate his warrior heritage, albeit the good aspects of it. And if the boy had inherited their fighting spirit, then one day, he would attain the level of a Super Saiyan.

"Can I have that one?" little Daikon inquired, with a charming, but devious smile. 

Grandma Shallot just grinned, and tossed him a large fowl leg. Daikon proceeded to tear into it, bringing back to Yamcha a memory of a 12-year old Goku gobbling down a whole buffet, during a time he, Roshi, Krillin and Bulma were at a restaurant.

"Ah, his appetite is already healthy," Shallot commented, handing her daughter and son-in-law cups of Islon tea. "And how are the other Earth Saiyalings doing?"

Yamcha knew who she was referring to. "Oh little Trunks and Goten? They're getting much bigger. They're actually hanging out together alot, they seem to be real close."

Shallot chuckled softly. "Who would have thought that the heir to the Vegeta Monarchy would make friends with a commoner?”

"Strange things have happened," Okra said, as she sipped the tea with a twinkle in her eye.

  


  



	2. Chapter 2

  


  


  


**Age 772, early summer**

  


  


Dende and Popo observed the unmovable determination in Yamcha. There was no convincing him....he had made up his mind. 

“But Yamcha, even during Cell’s terror, you didn’t have any desire,” Dende pointed out. 

“How is this time different?” Popo inquired. 

Off to the side, Piccolo was watching him with guarded interest.

The human looked down, balling his fists. “I want to do this...no, I _have_ to. Maybe in the past I had no need to be stronger because I lost interest in fighting.” His head shot up, and they saw now an old animal flame from long ago spark in his eyes.

Dende and Popo recognized that feral presence....a wolf about to strike its prey.

“But people change,” Yamcha continued. “I want to see for myself....to see how strong I can get.”

It was then that Dende smiled upon a realization. “You have something worth protecting now. Something worth fighting for.”

“An epiphany,” Popo concluded.

Yamcha beamed with pride, but he also felt a sudden twinge of guilt and selfishness. Yes, he wanted to protect his family and prove to them that he could. But he still felt shame for not wanting to do this when Earth had been threatened by Cell.

“Look....I know I should have done this during the fight with Cell,” he confessed. “I don’t know about the others.” He looked up, his jaw set firmly. “But at the time, I saw no use contributing my strength to fight that monster. Especially when we had incredibly strong fighters like Goku and Vegeta. I....I would have just gotten myself killed again.”

A few moments of silence, before Dende asked, “Even if you had grown stronger training in the chamber?”

Yamcha nodded, still feeling that knawing guilt. “What was the use? It may not have made a difference in fighting Cell.”

“Don’t feel bad, Yamcha,” Dende assured. “I’ve come to know that your people are not perfect....mistakes, mishaps are inevitable. Besides, this is really something not for the faint of heart – otherwise, everyone would be doing it.”

Yamcha lowered his eyes, pensive. He may never get as powerful as a Super Saiyan, but he could atleast see how far he could reach the limit. A foreign, almost giddy feeling filled him at wanting to find out.

“Well then, I see you all are determined,” Popo said, looking past the ex-bandit. Krillin, 18, Tien and finally, Okra, stood behind him, looking just as stubborn.

“But I warn you, training in the Time Chamber is a daunting endeavor,” Dende said, walking by Yamcha with hands clasped behind his back. “Can you all withstand 10 times the gravity?”

Without missing a beat, the human nodded. He and the others had atleast been training in 8.5 g. It was carefully planned, after that humiliating experience in the Gravity Room several years before.

Okra walked up from behind, placing a firm hand on his shoulder. “We protect each other, husband.”

He smiled back, the confidence radiating from his eyes. He seemed to be drawing it out of her…

Glancing at the Saiyan female, Krillin nervously turned to Popo. “Sooo, did Korin ever drop by with that huge bag of senzu beans?” 

* * *

"Husband, I am with child again."

Yamcha was stunned, panting from exhilaration after another sparring session with the robust woman. Him and Krillin could have a ball all day talking about literally beating up their spouses, like in competitor sports. Of course, the women always got the upper hand...

Although he had been overjoyed at the prospect of having more children, he of course took Okra’s feelings into consideration. 

"But do you....?" he began, uncertain.

Okra smirked, giving him a light punch to the arm. "Think I don't want these brats? Think just one is too much for me? Or you?"

What would another one be like? Moreover, that meant…

_What if this one has…defects?_

That brief, dreaded feeling came back into the human’s core from years before. _My lineage. Like his was in the tales...Mor--_

“Are you okay, love?” Okra asked.

No, it can't be. Daikon had turned out normal, right? 

Yamcha snapped out of his dark thoughts. “Oh yeah, it’s just that…”

She knew almost right away. She had sympathized when she finally found out those years ago. Okra went over and gave him a heartfelt hug.

“It'll be alright,” she whispered in his ear. "No matter what happens. "

Now the roles were reversed, as it was she now who was comforting the Minat. 

It later turned out to be not one fetus, but _two_ growing within Okra's womb. This time, they went to Squash to welcome their new twin babies, a boy and girl.

Okra's family had come to visit them at their residence by a river. A Cetac alien had come to bless the children, and so did a local Saiyan sage that practiced the Lenti religion.

Bean was holding the infant girl. "This time, these little ones look alot like you, Yamcha!"

"They sure do," Shallot agreed, as she cradled the infant boy. "What will you name them?"

Okra looked up to Yamcha. "You have that honor, my love."

The human blushed, before smiling again. After mulling over it for awhile, he finally came up with two names that would suit them well. 

He indicated his second-born son. "Dimsum..." And then pointing to his daughter. "Chasi."

Daikon held out his arms to his little sister. "I want to hold her!"

Bean handed the baby girl over to the eager boy, who giggled upon looking into his stern face. Uncle Cress and his family would soon arrive to see their new additions to the bloodline. That’s one thing that Shallot didn’t miss about the old ways growing up – her people had been so cold regarding family.

It never felt right to her. But here, she could revel in the joy of having her offspring and their own around. Squash colony was not Planet Vegeta, after all...

  


  


  


**Age 772, two weeks before Christmas (Earth time)**

  


  


Night fell on Legu City, as the stars arose to glisten brightly for its many watchers on the small planet. 

Okra beamed, stepping back to examine her work. Puar appeared from the twins’ room, after singing them soundly to sleep. He looked a bit exhausted, but nonetheless grew interested in what Okra was doing. 

“Hey Puar! Glad you could help out before your date!”

“Ah no problem, Okra! I knew ‘Stomp On The Cockroach’ song would excite them enough that they'd tire and fall asleep!”

Yamcha was coming out of Daikon’s room after putting him to bed, and was impressed when he saw Okra’s beautiful handiwork: several boxes covered snugly in familiar Christmas designs, with glittering bows, colorful candy canes, elf and reindeer figurines and shiny winter bells adorning them. 

“Whoa…awesome, Okra! You’ve certainly beat me in the talent for gift wrapping!”

Okra smiled, feeling warmed by the compliment. “Do you think Mother and Uncle will like their gifts?”

“I sure hope so,” he replied. “As you know, Christmas is like being in a candy store for us humans. Who wouldn’t want some nice, extra treats once a year?”

Okra remembered how he had introduced to her to the colorful, winter holiday. Only a few other Saiyans loved it….Goku, Gohan, Goten and Trunks. She had grown fond of it as well.

Yamcha then picked up two of the smaller gift packages; Okra had pasted the face of a snowman on one of them, and the face of Rudolph the Rednosed Reindeer on the other.

“So, what do you think of Okra’s gift decorating?” Yamcha made the reindeer say, imitating a cutesy voice. 

“Oooh, how lovely!” he then imitated a squeakier voice for the snowman, and it then bobbed towards the boxed presents.

Okra giggled. “You silly boy..” 

*Sniff**sniff* “Mmmm, I give it nine…no, ten sugar cookies!” the snowman crowed.

“Ahhhh, how about ten big, fat wet kisses?” he then made the reindeer suggest.

“I like cookies better, they got sugar in them!”

“Pah! So does Okra here,” the reindeer shot back.

“Aaaah, maybe you’re right, she is sweet too, so ten kisses it is!”

Okra laughed, as he then brought both the ‘animal’ gifts to her face, and they pecked at her cheeks with ‘smooching’ sounds.

“I prefer an actual kiss!” Before Yamcha could react, she leaned up and smacked her lips strongly on his, pushing him down on the couch.

“Whoa…Okra!” he was trying catch his balance, as he accommodated her forceful kiss. While they were busy making out, Puar snuck over and took some of the candy canes and figurines off the table.

_I’m sure my date will love these, teehee!_

  


  


  


**Age 774, May**

  


  


Okra glanced at her husband, whose body was tense with a mixture of excitement and apprehension, as he piloted the hover car on their way to the 25th World Martial Arts Tournament. They had brought Daikon along with them, while the twins stayed on Squash Colony with her mother. 

Although Daikon had been in a defiant attitude all morning; he was especially testing Yamcha’s patience, but seemed a bit more responsive to Okra’s admonishments. 

Atlast though, she was finally going to meet the man she heard so much about.

Goku, one of the heroes of Planet Earth…

“Hey, how about some music?” Puar suggested from the backseat. 

Okra reached to power on the radio, and was turning the dial. A somewhat haunting voice caught her attention, and she paused on the song.

_“….and you won’t understand the cause of your grief, but you’ll always follow….”_

Abruptly, Yamcha reached over and changed the station. Okra glanced at him, taken aback.

“Oh…uh, you don’t like it?”

He shook his head. “Ah, I’m not in the mood for medieval-new agey type music. How about some classic pop?” 

Okra was going to press on the matter, but his tone gave no room for questioning, as he then quickly changed to another subject. A small, but nagging feeling in the back of her mind wondered if it was more than just personal tastes in music. 

* * *

That persistent, giddy feeling was still with Yamcha as he waited, along with Chichi, Gohan and the others for their friend’s long-awaited arrival.

Seven years…

Okra admitted that she too was feeling something akin to excitement. This Saiyan had been raised his whole life on the planet. How would he be like?

With her encouragement, Yamcha had trained hard to enter the tournament and was sporting his classic orange ghi, which made sensei Roshi proud; he was representing Turtle School, aside from Krillin and Goten.

But seeing his old friend Goku again had been a heartfelt moment; Yamcha certainly missed him, as did the warrior’s family and other friends.

Vegeta though, was itching for rematch with his old rival. Some things will never die. Yamcha had introduced Okra and Daikon to Goku, and she immediately took a liking to him, though she thought he was somewhat on the naïve, goofy side.

Goku, in turn, was quite surprised more Saiyans had survived Planet Vegeta's destruction. Nonetheless, he welcomed Yamcha's wife with open arms.

Daikon was curious and had bombarded questions about Goku's fighting techniques and abilities, his pride in his Saiyan heritage and if he liked seafood harimaki. Vegeta had had the unfortunate incident of being subjected to Daikon's incessant thirst for knowledge - particularly Saiyan history and culture - a year earlier. 

"Of course, kid!" Goku said cheerfully. "I'll eat anything!"

"Is it true you came back to life?" Daikon asked. "Like the prince and my dad here?"

"Yeah. Though being in the afterlife is not so bad. Not really different from here."

"Why does Prince Vegeta call you Kakarot?"

"That's his original name, son," Okra stated. 

"Yeah, the one I was born with," Goku agreed. 

"Why did you change your name?"

Yamcha sighed. This was going to be a long Q&A session, but luckily Piccolo was growing impatient and wanted to move along to the registration booths.

Daikon soon got distracted by what Trunks and Goten were up to. He hardly hung around the other two hybrid Saiyans, as he spent most of his time on Squash colony. He did take every opportunity to visit whenever they came back to Earth.

* * *

"Father, let me help," Daikon insisted.

Yamcha was still reeling in his shock after taking a severe beating by Majin Buu – it was probably stupid of him to go up against a powerful demon, but he had to try and protect his family…his friends.

Buu had threatened to turn them into chocolate, but after witnessing their power ups – their “saber rattling” if one interprets it – the vicious monster decided to play around with them for a bit. He had sensed their power levels were beyond that of a normal human, even Piccolo’s, but probably nowhere near as formidable as Gohan’s had been.

Krillin, 18 and Okra were now engaged in a swarmer fight with the monster, teleporting in and out, going on the defensive several times, and aiming to hit Buu in presumed vulnerable areas as hard as they could.

“Dende, Popo!” Daikon called. “Give my father a senzu bean!”

“Daikon, no…get out of here!” Yamcha insisted, coughing up blood. 

“No, I want to help you fight Buu!” 

“It’s too dangerous! You’re just a kid!”

But even as Yamcha protested this, he glanced into the serious eyes of his son, a mere four and a half years old – it was then he realized he wasn’t talking to an ordinary preschooler. 

Daikon had inherited more of his Saiyan side from his mother; his mind and body developed exponentially faster than a human’s, so really, he already had the mind and determination of a 14 year old.

“Listen, Daikon,” Yamcha insisted. “You’re not going to make it. Go! Get away from here!” 

They were soon distracted with Krillin being knocked into a pillar, dust billowing and chunks of stone crumbling from the impact crater it made. Okra, 18 and Buu had taken to the sky, still throwing kicks and punches at each other, as well hurling ki blasts all over the Lookout area. A few of them barely missed both Yamcha and Daikon.

_Dammit, I have to help them!_

Dende came flying over with a senzu bean. Yamcha gladly took it and swallowed it. Within under a minute, he was fully healed again. 

“Thanks Dende.”

The Earth guardian nodded. “We’ve got to get you to the chamber! Who knows how long Krillin and the others will last against him!”

“Destructo Disc!”

They all looked up to see Krillin hurling his signature attack at the pink demon, who was too distracted with fighting Okra and 18. The ki razor ended up cutting off Buu’s head antenna. The villain was momentarily shocked, clutching at his head and yelling out in pain. 

Yamcha turned to Daikon, now determined. “Son, please! Go with the others.”

“No, I’m gonna help defeat him—“

“Listen to your father!” Yamcha shouted. 

A part of him instantly regretted being harsh to Daikon, but the boy wasn’t listening at all. He was too stubborn and foolish, even if his thinking was more mature in age. Yamcha never recalled acting like that when he four or five. They were quite different indeed…

Before Daikon could protest again, Yamcha turned to Dende. “Take him and run.”

With that, he powered up and flew towards the melee with Buu and his friends. He wondered if the psycho demon had defeated Piccolo, Goten and Trunks in the Time Chamber. They were nowhere to be found or ki sensed. The Namekian constantly assured them that they had a new technique that could give them an upper hand in the battle. Fear seized Yamcha at the possibility that Buu had killed all three. 

There was no more time to think over it, as his reflexes kicked in two seconds before his mind did; he went on the offense, micro-teleporting behind Buu, and double kicking him in the back. He was hoping there would be a wide, open target to perform the Gale Wolf Fang Fist Attack on their deadly foe. 

But it all ended in tragedy when Buu eventually absorbed Krillin, 18 and Yamcha.

As he struggled against the the pink blob engulfing him, his spirit screamed out for his loved ones. What was going to happen to them? What would happen to Dende and the others? Would Goku be able stop Buu?

Daikon disobeyed his father and had broken free from Dende’s grip. In the end, the demon had overpowered Okra and cut little Daikon down. It was all hopeless….

Buu was going to get what he wanted, no matter who stood in his way. Afterwards, he had turned the others into chocolate, devouring them in a sickening fashion. Okra was also absorbed, after the monster gouged her Super Saiyan power level.

 _Yamcha…Daikon…Chasi…Dimsum!_ Were her last thoughts before being sucked up by the pink terror. Sadly, her Minat angel couldn’t save her this time. 

  


  


  


**Age 779, June**

  


The song ended on a high note of cheers and excited clapping as Yamcha glanced down at the scrumptious, triple layered fruit basket cake. The words “Happy Birthday, Yamcha!” were written down in bright, shimmering colors that reflected blue, green, purple and pink.

A fearsome looking wolf made up with icing adorned one side, while a bat and baseball topped off the right side. On the lower left corner was the symbol for the Turtle School, while on the right was the official insignia for the Z Fighters.

“Make a wish, daddy!” Chasi encouraged.

“Or you could always use the dragonballs…” Roshi threw in.

Some of his friends chuckled. Yamcha decided to go the traditional route and closed his eyes, his special wish a secret only to him. He then blew out the candles, with everyone erupting again in elated applause. 

Bulma, Goku and Launch were snapping photos, while several others held their phones to capture the sentimental moment.

Later that day…

“Shhhh!” Bulma and Chichi commanded the crowd, as Dimsum lead his father – with eyes firmly shut – to the center of the large family room. 

“But he’s not a little kid!” Beerus quietly protested. 

“I still think this will be exciting to watch,” Whis’s pleasant voice whispered.

“Okay dad, open your eyes!” Dimsum declared.

Yamcha could hear Krillin and Gohan snickering for some unknown reason. But as his dark eyes shot open, there hung a piñata from the ceiling - in the form of a Saibaman. The human couldn’t help but blush furiously.

“Oh wow…” he stammered.

“Now you can get back at the bad Saibaman!” Dimsum added.

He could feel Vegeta’s unimpressed eyes on him. Piccolo was smirking in amusement. 17 and 18, the other twins in the group, were glancing a bit curiously at the piñata. Although 18 wasn’t too surprised, as she already knew the story behind it from Krillin. 

Tien and Chiaotzu were looking on awkwardly, bringing back yet another humiliating memory of their friend getting bested by a lowly green goblin.

“Too bad it’s not the real thing,” Daikon remarked with a shrug.

Yamcha smiled in defeat, turning to his friends and family. “Jeez guys, you’re never gonna let me live this one down…”

Okra then walked up and handed him a steel baseball bat. “For now, you can just beat the hell out of it until we get you a real one.”

He smiled back, letting out a little nervous chuckle. After being blindfolded, he then raised the bat to take the first hit. He admitted it felt good beating a papier-mâché version of his green nemesis, even if it wasn’t the actual one. Candy started spilling forth from it, with all the excited children diving in to swipe handfuls off the floor, before they were all barreled out of the away by Buu.

"Mmmmmm, bad guy bleed candy?? Buu like!" the pink demon exclaimed.

Mr Satan facepalmed. "Buu, do you have to be such a pig about it? Don't be greedy and share with the kids!"

After awhile, everyone settled into mingling and dancing to beat club music, hosted by a local DJ. 

Several times though, Yamcha had caught Fortune Teller Baba staring at Daikon, albeit in a cautious way. Occasionally, she would glance back at the human with a more concerned look.

“Hey Baba, are you alright?” he asked.

She suddenly snapped out of her troubled expression, putting on a wide smile. “Oh sorry Yamcha, it’s nothing! I’m just marveling at – at how big your kids have grown!”

Yamcha was a bit taken aback, but agreed wholeheartedly with her assessment. “Yes, they have! And pretty strong too. I don’t think I could lift a 60 pound barbell at Dimsum’s age!”

Before their conversation could go further, a drunk Oolong and Roshi grabbed the old witch to show her something in the living room (probably naughty in nature). Still, he couldn’t help but feel a little worried as to Baba’s strange behavior. Or maybe she was just a bit stressed by the party? 

  


  


  


**Age 805, late Summer**

  


  


It was the annual celebration of the birth of Squash Colony. Many years ago, Yamcha had found the time to introduce such Earthly treasures as baseball and pizza to the citizens. Although the colony had been privy to sharing and exchanging commerce with several worlds, including Earth. Some had even been recruited into the Galactic Patrol, with Commissioner Jaco being one of their major supporters.

To Yamcha’s pleasant surprise, Goku had been accepting of the Squash colonists. He seemed no different from them either, as his own ideals and beliefs fit right in with their own.

Although several of them were baffled that he wanted to fight them. Yamcha already knew that some of those Saiyans were born with no desire for battle. Plus, there had been stronger opponents Goku had taken on in the past, with power levels well past 5 septillion.

With Bulma and Bra’s constant urging, they had finally managed to convince Vegeta to visit the colony a few times over the years. 

Most of the Saiyans there were cordial enough to tolerate the son of the accursed ruler they opposed long ago; some of them even offered him hospitality, though Vegeta didn’t reciprocate the same feelings.

Perhaps in Saiyan culture, betrayals were more harder to get over. Or maybe it was just his usual demeanor towards everyone, former foe or not…

His brother, Tarble, was more open to visiting the colony on occasion. He would bring his family along, and mingled comfortably with all the social classes. Most of the colonists didn’t seem to mind if he was directly descended from the Vegeta Monarchy, as his charm, nobility and skill for diplomacy eventually won them over. 

Even the council welcomed his ideas. They were not naïve though, so some of them still harbored suspicion towards Tarble for wanting to visit the colony. 

_He’s not deceitful…_ Yamcha thought. _I could be putting blind faith into it, but he’s not like the Saiyans from the old reign…even if he does carry the blood of the King._

Years ago, he and Okra had learned that Tarble was another Saiyan raised on a foreign planet, just like Goku. He barely knew anything about his culture….well, atleast the draconian ways of his father.

Yamcha now had wisps of gray in his jet-black hair; although he still retained the boyish looks, he wondered if he should take Bulma’s example and use the dragonballs for extended youth?

As he mulled over it, he glanced over to Tien. “Ready to check out some of the dojos?”

His friend smiled wanly. “After we eat.”

Years before, Tien and Launch had finally gotten together and produced several children. He has also decided to revive part of the teachings from the dark, assassin-type Crane School, modifying the techniques and styles to his own unique brand. Yamcha had convinced Tien to come along and explore the training facilities, as well as assessing their codes and combat practices on Squash colony; and so, he came along with his family.

Even though the reserved sensei had no reason to go gallivanting off to another planet, Yamcha thought of breaking the monotony with a visit anyways; an out-of-this world vacation, if one can call it that. 

They brought their oldest child, a 23 year old son named Dinna. Recently, he had been promoted to officer status at the Central City Police Department.

He had wavy blond hair, inherited from Launch’s dark personality, as well as the green eyes. He resembled Tien though and sported his clan’s third eye. But he was often rude and aggressive.

He didn’t look too kindly at all the Saiyans mingling around the festival. 

“So these are the mighty warrior turds you told me about long ago? These smiling, happy, silly wusses?”

Tien and Launch were now looking embarrassed.

“Uhh, please excuse Dinna here, he’s just cranky from not getting enough sleep…” the blue-haired human female spoke up.

Yamcha only smiled, amused. “Looks can be deceiving, Dinna. I wouldn’t underestimate them.”

Dinna tsked. “Whatever.”

Okra wasn’t that perturbed by their son’s bad attitude. She knew Tien and Launch had been good parents, yet he was the one they had the most trouble raising. Dinna had been in prison for robbery and assault charges, though amazingly, turned his life around after Chasi got with him.

Him and Chasi had grown close, though Okra didn’t completely understand why her daughter took such an interest in a mercurial man. But it was clear Dinna had a soft spot for her.

They were opposites; she was compassionate and kind, bubbly; he was brooding, devious and engaged in thrill seeking behavior.

Both of them had participated in the World Martial Arts Tournament back on Earth, with Dinna and Chasi representing their fathers’ rival schools, Tien-Shin Style (an offshoot of the infamous Crane) and Turtle, respectively. If there was ever a ‘Romeo and Juliet’ relationship, this was one example - except both sets of parents were not at each other's throats.

“Hey, look whose here!” Dimsum was pointing to a familiar couple...a tall, burly man, distinguishable by the scars on his tanned face and sharply angled black hair. Beside him was a green-skinned sprite woman, with several spunky teens and kids running around them.

“Why I’ll be, the whole brood made it,” Yamcha remarked. 

“Hey guys!” Chasi called happily, waving to them.

“Mom, dad, it’s Chasi and the others!” one of their children, a white-haired teenage boy exclaimed.

Another one, this time a girl with wild black hair and matching eyes, ran towards them.

“Hi Suki!” Dimsum greeted, patting the girl’s head as she gave him a tight hug. She was very affectionate as always, her Saiyan tail wagging like a happy dog’s.

“Hey Broly, it’s been while!” Yamcha said, reaching out a fist bump for an informal greeting. The towering Saiyan smiled warmly, returning the gesture.

“It’s nice to see you guys again,” he replied.

“I had to drag them out the kitchen this morning or else we would be late to the celebration,” his wife, Cheelai, stated. “They insisted on thirds for breakfast! I told them wait until we get to Squash Colony, then you can pig out to your heart’s content!”

“Yeah, we’re the bottomless pit of the universe,” Okra replied, chuckling.

“I swear, Saiyan appetites.”

Trunks and Mai later arrived, along with their own children. It was one of the few times they could attend the celebration, given how busy they were year round. Each kid stood by one side of their parent. The oldest was a preteen boy named Scallion, with black hair shaped into a prominent widow’s peak and stern blue eyes – he certainly looked like a mini Vegeta, having inherited his grandfather’s traits; his eyes were obviously from his father and grandmother. 

The other was another boy, named Boxers. He had straight black hair and eyes, and was smiling amiably. He looked more like Mai’s side of the family. 

His face lit up when one of Broly’s sons offered to play with him. As they went off near one of the parks, Dinna turned to Trunks and Mai.

“So, any good clubs around here?” he asked, somewhat disinterested in the reunion.

“Ah, we saw a few back in the Bh’tam district,” Trunks replied. “Great place, as always. We’ve been to the one called the Dika Club several times.”

Dinna snorted. “Well, their liquor better be good. I’m not paying for any shit drink.”

“What are you going to do, arrest the bartender?” Chasi teased.

He only smiled, though Okra didn’t like how predatory it was directed at her daughter. “I’d rather see you handcuffed.”

“Jeez, kinky,” Dimsum remarked, rolling his eyes.

“You seen Gohan and his family yet?” Yamcha then asked.

“They should be getting here in half an hour,” Trunks said. “Honestly, some schools on this colony are practically begging him to stay and teach.”

“He’s that good, huh?” 

“It appears so. Goten and Bra are still at the Chickpee Dojo. They didn’t bring little Goki this time.”

“Chichi watching him again?”

Trunks nodded. “Oh well, atleast he likes doing his homework. No running off to fight some dinosaur or training 24/7 out in the boonies.”

“Nice to know Chichi doesn’t have to strap him to the chair. It was hell with Goten and even at times with Gohan, especially when Goku was around.”

“Goki is bright for his age, wanting to learn all the time,” Mai observed. “Maybe that’s why he doesn’t mind studying. That doesn’t mean he dislikes playing though. He can be rowdy sometimes--” she indicated their youngest son at the park, “--Boxers over there is always goading him into play fighting and he never turns down the opportunity.” 

“So, did Daikon come?” Cheelai then asked. 

“Yeah, but he’s still at the Raiza headquarters downtown,” Okra replied, pointing towards Legu City. “He’s been hanging with them a lot for several years now…”

Yamcha now looked a bit uneasy. “I don’t know about them. They seem to be a lot on the nationalistic side…”

“Of course,” Trunks remarked, not surprised. “You’re going to have those kinds of groups anywhere you go in the universe.”

Yamcha sighed, remembering the Terran Gamma Alliance, whose members were a little too proud of their human heritage. Their manifesto bordered on xenophobic tendencies, as far as he was concerned. “Yeah, I just didn’t expect one to pop up on Squash colony. But yeah, I wish he was here with us too.”

As he spoke, Okra had sensed his concern and reached out a hand to comfort her husband. “Don’t worry, love. He’ll show up soon.”

Yamcha gladly accepted her reassurance, covering her hand with his own. He had come to trust her judgement on the matter, and it seemed to drive those unsettling, lurking fears of the future back to the dark regions of his mind.

After all these years, Okra knew he was not the same wondrous entity that had comforted her in her nightmares from long ago. He may have been a Minat, but he was also a mortal. A human. 

That means he was capable of feeling the same emotions, joys, and insecurities as everyone else did on Earth. She may not have known exactly what it meant to be human, but she could wholeheartedly identify with how he felt most of the time.

And that was enough for the Saiyan, born during an era where understanding and comforting one’s own fears and vulnerabilities was nonexistent. Except when the colonists finally rebelled against a brazen monarchy, ultimately deciding their own fate.

_No, not fate. Free will._

No matter what the future held, it was still not set. Okra smiled inwardly at that, as she waited for everyone else to arrive. 

  


  


~ Fin ~

  



End file.
